


Savior

by AlexMeg



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur taking care of Merlin, Caring Arthur, Childlike!Merlin, Crying!Merlin, Gen, Gentle Arthur, Kind Arthur, Protective!Arthur, Shy Merlin, Tortured!Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-05 04:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3105500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexMeg/pseuds/AlexMeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Based on the episode 'Lady of the Lake' — Arthur saves a special young boy, a sorcerer and a slave, from the hands of a Bounty Hunter and hides him in the caves beneath the castle. From there on, their friendship grows, and Arthur begins to learn that, perhaps, everything he had been taught about magic might not all be the truth. No slash. Merlin and Arthur bromance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

 

He huddled into himself as the cold air bit his skin and seeped into his muscles and bones, leaching out all the heat from his emaciated body. But the action wasn't enough to fight off the harsh winter, and his ragged and torn clothes weren't much help either.

He watched as his current master, Master Halig, sneered at him with disgust, and he flinched back, looking down at his arms on top of his knees and pressing further into the dark corner of the cage, and prayed for him to leave soon. He didn't want to be beaten or whipped, or told that he was worth nothing and he was born to be a slave. He didn't want to be called a monster, a curse upon this Earth, someone who'd never be loved because of what he was.

He knew why he was here. He knew this was the end of his journey, of his life as a slave. The end of his life itself. He was going to be sold here, to the King of Camelot, and his master would receive a handsome reward for the capture of a sorcerer. Even more so, a sorcerer such as  _him_. And then, he was going to be executed. Killed.

Perhaps there was a part of him that was relieved at the prospect of death, after all these years of gaining nothing but torment and agony and sorrow and despair. But the other side of him still wished, still hoped for a better life. For a life where he was normal, loved and cared for by someone, and with people he loved as well. He wanted to be back at home, in Ealdor, living with his mother who was only mere pieces of memories in his mind.

Most of all, he just wanted to be loved.

But he knew there was no one in this world who would ever do so. He was a monster. A curse upon this Earth. He was worthless. Nothing. And to think that anyone could ever feel something for him would be foolish.

He had long since made peace with death, believing it to be better than the life he lived. Anyone would believe the same. The life of slavery and of someone who had magic was cruel and brutal, and the world was merciless and unforgiving towards all of them. There was little cause to hope for a reason to come along and make him want to keep fighting.

The yells of an authoritative and firm voice startled him out of his dark, inner thoughts. And he flinched violently, swallowing hard, and then slowly raised his head and glanced up at the scene.

"Search the citadel!" the man barked, waving an arm around while his hand rested on his sword. "The thief must be found! The items he stole were valuable goods! He must not get away!"

The man had blonde hair that glinted like the rays of the sun in the dark, eyes that were as beautiful and blue as the sea. He moved with an air of confidence and strength, with honour and nobility, back and shoulders straight and head held high.

There was another man with him. Tall and curly-haired, right alongside him as they ran about, with a similar, but a bit more inferior, air.

 

**. . .**

 

A small part of his mind registered the cage, but the rest was too focused on finding the thief, his head whipping in all directions as his sharp eyes searched all the places with the utmost concentration and attention, his body swinging and twisting left and right.

He began heading towards the tavern of The Rising Sun. It didn't seem like the worst place to hide. Crowded with full of people and noisy with chatter.

But just as he passed by the horse-cart, he startled slightly, barely restraining the small gasp that almost burst out from him, as a young boy jumped out towards him from inside the cage, the fingers of his manacled hands wrapping around the iron bars of the cage. His raven-black hair was long, curling slightly behind his prominent ears, and his large, doe blue eyes stared at him, drawing him in.

And for some reason, he couldn't look away.

"I suppose the Bounty Hunter is here, then," Sir Leon commented. "You know of the King's policy to offer a generous reward to those who capture sorcerers and bring them to him."

Arthur couldn't move. Couldn't think. It almost felt like those eyes were holding him in one place, trapping him, and stealing his ability to do  _anything_. And he couldn't understand why.

"Sire?" Leon asked, his tone concerned at his lack of response.

Arthur shook his head out of the strange trance, and nodded quickly. "Yes, I know."

There was something inside him, telling him. Begging him.  _Screaming_  at him to save the boy.

Maybe it was the feeling of  _wrong_  there. The way his small, raw wrists were shackled in such a way, the way his clothes were tattered and shredded and barely covering much skin, his sunken face covered in grime and bruises and dried blood, the fragility of his visible bones poking through the thin, ragged shirt hanging on him, and the vulnerability of the inexplicable emotions that were brimming in the huge, desperate eyes boring into him. Maybe it was the plea in his devastated blue orbs, or maybe it was his own protective instincts that rose every time he saw a person such as him.

He'd never know.

"Sire?" Leon said, and it seemed as if it wasn't the first time he had been calling for him.

"Yes. Yes, of course," Arthur answered, looking at him. "We must find the thief."

As he walked away, the boy's gaze followed him, never leaving him.

. . .

The thief was caught and imprisoned, and the knights had all left for their night of sleep.

Yet, Arthur still felt like there was something weighing on him. Something he needed to do. And he couldn't sleep, because the face of that broken boy kept appearing in his mind, the image of him most probably out there in the cold, with little clothes and no layers on his body to protect him from it, manacled and beaten and skinny—

He forced himself to remember that he was a sorcerer, and closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

And yet, the feelings never eased.

And an hour later, he still found himself awake.

 

**. . .**

 

He snuck out into the dark night, the stars beaming down at him, almost as if praising him for his decision.

He spotted the cage near the tavern again, the same place it was last seen. And he made his way over, while the dredges of doubt roused in his head.

This boy was a sorcerer. He had magic. He could be dangerous, a killer. Someone who could attack him as soon as he was released (even if his appearance opposed such behavior). So, would it be right to do this?

His footsteps stopped in front of the cage, his chest slightly heavy. It was certainly freezing out here, his trembling breaths coming out in mists as the chilled air touched his skin through his expensive clothes, causing him to shudder in reaction even despite the jacket he was wearing, his nose growing numb with inhalation of the crisp wintery atmosphere.

The boy's head remained lowered, apparently unaware of his presence. Arthur licked his lips and glanced at the tavern for a few seconds, before moving towards the building, opening the door and discreetly peeking in, his gaze wandering until it settled on the man he believed to be the Bounty Hunter. By the looks of it, he must be planning on staying at least until midnight here, which gave him enough time to take the boy away and hide him somewhere no one could find him.

The smell of ale filtered in through his senses, the warm air inside tempting him to come in and spend a few moments there, at least until the discomforting cold was chased away from his body.

But he turned away and closed the door behind him, striding towards the confinement containing the young boy who had been haunting his sleep and keeping him from peace and rest.

His lips curled in a grimace of displeasure as he caught sight of the lock hanging on the door, and he hoped the key was somewhere around  _here_  and not with the Bounty Hunter. He searched throughout the cart, all the while shooting glances at the door of the tavern as if expecting the Bounty Hunter to emerge any minute.

There was nothing.

He gave one look towards the tavern again, before closing his eyes and heaving a large sigh, hoping that the loud chaos inside would be enough to keep the sounds from reaching the Hunter's ears. And then he opened his eyes, pursed his lips and grasped the hilt of his sword, sliding it out from its sheath, and then wrapped his other hand around it as well, and he slowly raised it high.

Before bringing it down on the lock in one swift  _whoosh_.

The lock fell open.

And he grinned to himself in pride.

Arthur opened the cage, and that was when the boy acknowledged him, his head jerking up from his knees and looking at him, and then his eyes widened as they landed on him, his arms sliding off, palms flat on the ground, as he began backing away from the supposed threat.

"I won't hurt you," Arthur reassured him with placating hands lifted up, before lowering them down as he threw another glance at the tavern. He faced him again and climbed up into the cage. "Lift your hands."

The boy peered at him hesitantly, swallowing fearfully, his prominent throat bobbing visibly.

"Just do it!" Arthur whispered furiously at him, looking at the door once again.

And then he obeyed, tentatively reaching his hands up, eyes clenched shut as his head bowed down.

With one snap, the chains broke free.

Arthur grabbed his skinned, bony wrist. "Now, run," he said, pulling him along as he jumped out first, and then helped him down with an arm around him.

The door of the tavern clicked open, and in the shadows, the two figures were seen running away.

 

**. . .**

 

Arthur tugged him through the dark tunnels until he found a spot stretching out a wide clear area.

"You'll be safe here," he told him, turning around to face him once he examined the place and deemed it decent. "I promise."

"Why did you help me?" the boy asked quietly, his voice an almost inaudible mumble, as he hugged his bony arms around himself, his head still ducked down to stare at his own feet.

Arthur's mouth tightened at the question, wondering how he could explain that seeing him in such a state stirred a strong feeling of protectiveness like never before, and that even though helping him escape from that cage went against everything he had ever been taught, there was nothing that had ever felt more right.

_Almost like destiny_.

"I..." He paused, clearing his throat, and inhaled and lifted his chin. "I don't always agree with what the King does... even if I can scarcely stop him."

The boy shyly peeked through his fringe of black hair at those words, swallowing slightly.

It was then Arthur noticed his shivering, and the way his hands ran up and down his arms to produce heat.

He shrugged out of his jacket and held it out to him, but the boy shrunk away with a sudden gasp at his stretched arm, as if expecting to be hit, and Arthur stepped back with his hands raised in a placating manner once again. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just thought you might be cold."

The boy inhaled a small, shuddering breath, and Arthur offered the jacket to him again.

His small hands reached out and accepted it, pulling it towards himself.

"I'm Arthur," he said, smiling a bit as a reassuring promise that he was harmless.

The boy's gaze lifted tentatively, and settled on him.

"Merlin," he whispered softly, hesitance flickering in his features. "I'm Merlin."


	2. Food And Clothes

"Mer _lin_ ," Arthur drawled, as if testing what it sounded like on his tongue, narrowing his blue eyes in contemplation. Then he looked back at the boy and smiled. "Well, Merlin. I suppose I must go now, as it is nearing midnight. I'll be back in the morning with some candles and food. I hope you'll be alright until then?"

Merlin paused, staring at him, before giving a small nod, tightening his grip around the jacket as if afraid Arthur would change his mind and snatch it back from him.

If Arthur had noticed that, he didn't say or do anything except turn to leave after the response. But he was then stopped by Merlin's quiet and small voice piping up behind him.

"Thank you."

Arthur looked back, and with a soft smile, he gave one slight nod in reply to his gratitude.

 

**...**

 

The servant of the day tottered around in his chambers, organizing items, making the bed, collecting laundry. He was a timid young boy, probably almost as old as Merlin, Arthur compared, with blonde hair and brown eyes. The boy was fidgety when he had nothing to do, playing with his sleeves as he stood in the middle of the room until Arthur gave him all the orders. He also seemed to jump about a feet in the air should Arthur ever make the  _mistake_  of trying to engage him in conversation at times.

He wondered if it was partially due to his reputation for short temper and his tendency to overwork all the people who had ever had the honor of being his personal manservant. Perhaps it were those reasons why they all seemed to quit within a few months...

"Williams," Arthur said, and as he suspected, the boy hopped up about eleven inches in the air and dropped the item he was holding, which happened to be a flower vase as the pieces scattered all over the floor. He closed his eyes, his head flopping back on the chair, and tried to reign in his exasperation.

"S-sire, I-I apo - "

Arthur held up a hand to silence him, closing his eyes and pursing his lips with restraint. "It's alright," he forced out, clearing his throat.

"I'll c-clean it up," the boy offered.

"Yes. But first, I'd like another plate of food from the kitchens. I'm feeling more hungry than usual today," Arthur lied, the image of Merlin's nearly emaciated body filtering in through his mind as he said so.

"Yes Sire," the boy said, bowing his head as he spun on his heel and practically fled from the chambers.

 

**...**

 

Halig entered the court with a few knights trailing behind.

Uther glanced up for a second, before looking back down at the parchment he was writing on. "Ah, Halig. You've come bearing gifts?" Uther asked.

"Yes, Sire. A sorcerer boy. But he escaped here last night in Camelot," Halig answered solemnly, his hands clasped behind him.

"Well, don't worry," Uther said without looking up. "We'll soon find him. Have some guards help with the search."

A knight bowed and exited the room.

Halig rushed forward in anxious haste, leaning toward the king. "You need to warn them, Sire. The boy may be dangerous. The informer told me he is not the same as all the other sorcerers."

"How so?"

"He was born with his powers, Sire. His magic is instinctive, and can be activated without any enchantments. And he has little to no control over it. I was told he almost killed an entire room of men once."

"Set up sentries on all the gates," Uther ordered.

"We should search the lower town, Sire. Someone may be harbouring him."

"You think she had help?" Gaius questioned.

"I saw two figures running away," the Bounty Hunter answered.

"Give Halig all the help he needs. I want this boy and his accomplice found."

 

**...**

 

"Merlin?" Arthur whispered to the sleeping boy. When he didn't show any signs of hearing his call, the prince reached his hand out and touched his shoulder.

The reaction was instantaneous. Merlin jerked up from the floor with a gasp, scrambling back into the wall.

"Woah," Arthur said, holding up his hands. "It's alright, Merlin. It's just me. Just Arthur."

Merlin relaxed, a soft sigh of relief passing through his lips, and Arthur wondered what was going through his mind in those first few seconds he awoke. Nothing good, he figured.

"I brought you something to eat," Arthur told him, putting the cloth he gathered the food in on the ground and unfolding it for Merlin to see. "And after you're finished with your food, you could change into these." Arthur placed an entire set of worn clothes beside Merlin, tunic, breeches and other items. They were one of the oldest pairs he still had with him, and the only outfit he could find in his wardrobe that would seem to fit Merlin's skinny form even remotely.

Merlin nodded slightly, swallowing and pulling Arthur's jacket around him tighter. He then reached for the food, breaking them into smaller pieces and eating them with trembling hands as he watched Arthur set the candles.

Arthur tried to start a fire with flint and steel, rubbing them together. Merlin only had to look once before knowing that he probably didn't have much experience with such things.

"M-may I?" he asked quietly, sticking out a hand hesitantly.

Arthur shook his head, his gaze fixed on his work, but his hands were growing frustrated. "Your wrists are wounded. It will put a strain on them."

Merlin nodded.

It was after a few minutes of poor attempts that Merlin slowly, tentatively, raised a palm, lowered to his side as if he didn't want anyone to see it. He closed his eyes, feeling his magic rush through his veins as he aimed it at the candles.

His eyes flashed gold as he opened his eyes, and the fire kindled on the candle, dancing on the wick.

Merlin looked at Arthur, and saw him staring at him with a strange, unreadable expression on his face. And he couldn't stop himself from ducking his head down, his heart suddenly pounding hard and his gut clenching painfully with fear and nerves as he wondered whether he did the right thing or not.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, shaking his head as his blue darted around on the ground. "I'm sorry. I didn't... I'm very sorry. I... I was... I..."

"It's... it's alright," Arthur replied, sounding somewhat uncomfortable at the display of sorcery. Though he didn't agree with his father's reckless execution of anyone even  _suspected_ of using magic, it didn't mean that the years of being taught about how evil and wrong sorcery was hadn't affected him at all. Perhaps not much, but at the very least, a slight bit.

Merlin glanced up at him, doe eyes staring at him with fear and distrust and anticipation of something.

Anticipation of pain. Punishment.

"It's really okay," Arthur reassured, somewhat awkwardly, and then looked at the glowing little flames. "At least the candles are lit now."

Merlin bowed his head and smiled slightly at that, a small, shy smile that was still far from being completely comfortable, but a genuine smile nonetheless that made Arthur feel as if he had truly done something right.

"Well," Arthur said, in a tone that indicated that he was changing the topic, as he leaned back against the wall behind him, his knees up in front of him and his arms hanging off on them casually. "I suspect the food was good, Merlin?"

Merlin nodded wordlessly.

"You  _are_  allowed to speak, you know?" Arthur joked with a teasing smirk, though not unkindly.

Merlin paused, remaining quiet for a moment, before he hesitantly replied, "Y-yes."

Arthur's smirk grew into a light smile. "That's better."

Silence ensued for a while. Merlin ate his food in small bites, probably because he knew his skinny body might not be able to handle too much after being starved for so long, of which Arthur could clearly see in the bones poking out a bit through his jacket cloaked tightly around the boy's form. He could only imagine the torment the boy must have been forced to live through with the state of him and the bruises and scars peeking out.

"What happened to you?" Arthur asked softly, after a long period of observing Merlin silently.

"Enslavement," Merlin answered quietly, the faintest hint of bitterness in his voice.

"I suppose such cruelty could only be from that," Arthur replied, in a voice matching the quietness of Merlin's, the golden glow of the candle's light cast over his face emphasizing the attemptively-veiled softness and compassion in his blue eyes. His head tilted back until it touched the barricade as he watched Merlin.

"I suppose," Merlin agreed with a nod, his voice still low, and took another tiny bite of his bread.

"For how long were you, um..." He cleared his throat slightly and raised a hand, and then waving it towards Merlin in a vague gesture. "Kept in slavery?" Arthur questioned, uncertainty and hesitance that didn't belong on a prince's face flickering in his features as he did so.

"Why all these questions?" Merlin responded with a question of his own, too soft to be noticeable, but Arthur could hear the 'none-of-your-concern' tone in his words.

"I didn't mean to pry," Arthur amended, as close to an apology as he could. "I was merely wondering."

Merlin glanced up at him, before looking back down at the half-eaten food contritely. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sure I've heard worse," Arthur dismissed, brushing it off with a shrug of his shoulders.

Merlin slowly put down the piece of bread he was nibbling on, wrapping his arms around his stomach and pulling his legs closer to himself once again, and then he shrugged. "I was caught in the woods using magic without any incants by a slave trader when I was nine. He saw that I wasn't an ordinary magic-user, and he knew that could fetch a great amount of money, so he took me. And ever since then, I was passed around, bought and sold, from one person to another."

"What about your parents?"

A mirthless smile curved the boy's lips, and he looked down at his hands. "I'm sure my mother must have stopped wondering what had happened to me by now."

Arthur paused, before inhaling a sharp breath through his nose.

It must be awful, knowing your family had no idea what happened to you or where you were, spending days and nights realizing that there would be no one there to save you because they probably didn't even know whether you were alive or dead. And what about his mother? How terrible it must be for her, finding out one day that her son had disappeared without her having any idea of his whereabouts, asking herself over and over and searching for an answer in all these years of what might have happened to her son.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said softly, his eyes sincere and his words genuine.

Merlin swallowed, closing his eyes and exhaling a large, shaky breath. "My previous master deemed me useless after a while," he continued, "And then sold me to Master Halig, the Bounty Hunter."

"Why would the Bounty Hunter buy you just so he could sell you again?"

"For even more money," Merlin answered quietly, his small, hunched shoulders bouncing lightly again as he stared down at his hands.

Arthur took all the new relevations in with a deep breath, filling down to the bottom of his lungs, and then released the air out through his nose, his lips tightening in disgust at the actions of such greedy men.

Arthur processed through all the information for a moment, before something caught his attention, and a question roused in his mind.

His thoughtful, distant gaze returned back to Merlin. "What did you mean when you said you weren't an ordinary magic-user?" Arthur vocalized, his eyes knit in confusion and curiosity. "I mean, how is it possible for you to perform sorcery without any incants?"

Merlin stilled, from fear or surprise or both, Arthur wasn't sure. But he could tell by the reluctance in his blue orbs that Merlin didn't want to answer the question, didn't want him to know what it meant.

"I, um... I was born... with magic," Merlin mumbled in response, avoiding his gaze even more than he already was as he ducked his head further down, curling tighter into himself. Arthur knew it was because that fact mustn't really have granted him any kind of respect and kindness by the world, so the hesitance was understandable.

But for a moment, everything felt a bit surreal for Arthur. Years and years of being taught that magic was wrong, that sorcerers were evil, and here he was, having a conversation with and, perhaps, even befriending a magic-user who didn't simply  _practice_  sorcery, but was actually  _born_  with it.

With those thoughts came dredges of doubt and distrust that had been drilled into him since the very early years of his life.

But then, he looked up at Merlin. Looked up at his doe blue eyes unable to meet his own, his small body full of too many scars and bruises and powers that might have the ability to kill a lot of people in mere seconds, and yet, he was still sitting here in front of him, breathing and alive. He remembered back to the desperate and scared blue eyes following him from the cage, at the genuine gratitude in his quiet 'thank yous' and the small, shy smiles and the fear and shame of himself when he told him that he was born with magic.

And he realized that maybe Merlin wasn't the kind of person who fit the image his father had created in his mind.

Perhaps Merlin was different.

And with those thoughts came relief and contentment.

"I must leave now. People might notice I'm gone, particularly my father," Arthur excused, beginning to get up on his feet with a low groan at the sore muscles of sitting in one position for too long. "But I'll come back. And..." He ran his eyes over the scrawny frame of the boy. "I suppose I'll bring you some more food as well."

 

**...**

 

"Where have you been, Arthur? I've been told you haven't shown up for training practice today," Uther asked as Arthur entered the council room.

"I'm sorry, father. I, uh... I got caught up in a few urgent matters," Arthur lied, hoping his father wouldn't ask what those 'urgent matters' exactly were.

"Nevermind. A sorcerer boy had escaped last night," Uther told his son, his authoritative voice the same hard and regal tone. "It is believed that someone is helping him. Thus, it is your duty to find him. Take some guards with you to search around the castle and city. He must be found. He is dangerous to Camelot."

Arthur held back a snort at that. Merlin? Dangerous to Camelot?  _He looks like he can't even fight against a bloody puppy..._

"Yes, father," Arthur responded, giving a respectful bow to the king, before taking his leave as he turned on his heel and headed for the doors, a few guards trailing behind.

 

**...**

 

He had directed his group of guards in all the directions that were far, far away from the caves. But he knew that was the least of his problems when he saw a few guards along with the Bounty Hunter in front of a line of people, looking for suspects.

His own search party wasn't the only trouble now.

 

**...**

 

Arthur moved through the tunnels until he reached his intended location.

Arthur knelt down as he placed another cloth of food on the ground in front of Merlin. "I'm late. But I had a good reason. My - " Arthur stopped as he saw Merlin inhale a sharp, trembling breath and quickly swipe at his red-rimmed eyes, his long eyelashes wet as if he had been crying silently. "What's wrong?'

Merlin shook his head, glancing down at his hands and sniffing slightly.

"You're upset," Arthur said.

"It's nothing," he responded hoarsely, sniffling again.

And then he lifted his head up at him, gazing at him through tender blue orbs as if...

As if he was glad to see him here.

"You thought I wouldn't come back?" Arthur asked softly, causing Merlin to return his gaze back to his hands. He lowered down to settle himself beside Merlin as he looked at him, his head tilted slightly to catch his eyes. "I told you I would, didn't I?"

Merlin sniffled a little once more, and smiled as if he thought himself to be ridiculous, shrugging a bit. "I thought I scared you away... I thought you might have changed your mind about coming."

"I'm think I've seen far more scarier things than you, Merlin," Arthur joked, grinning as he poked his side lightly in a teasing manner, which made Merlin nudge sideways a little and smile again, this time another one of his dimpled and genuine, shy smiles that Arthur found himself growing fond of (and the feeling of doing something truly right filled him up with warmth once again).

It was then Arthur noticed Merlin wearing his old, tattered clothes, and when he looked over him, and saw the clothes he had brought for him still lying where he had left them before. "You haven't changed?"

Merlin followed the direction of his sight, his own gaze landing on the clothes.

 

**...**

 

Merlin emerged from behind the wall, practically swimming in Arthur's old clothes. His sleeves reached below his wrists and he bunched them up in his fingers as he fidgeted self-consciously, the tunic hanging off of his bony shoulders and exposing his collarbones, the hemline falling just above his knees, and his trousers were flowing at his ankles, nearly coming underneath his bare heels. His arms were pressed against his sides as if to hold his breeches up, his belt tied clumsily around his waist, and ineffectively as well, apparently.

Arthur laughed at the appearance of the boy, and Merlin blushed.

"You look ridiculous," he commented, grinning widely. And then he walked towards Merlin, stopping in front of him in three steps as stared at the belt with another huff of laughter. "And where in the  _world_  did you learn to tie a belt like that?" Arthur teased, reaching up and jerking the knot loose in two tugs, and then he began to tie the belt around Merlin's waist properly.

"I never did," Merlin replied quietly with a low snort.

Arthur's smile faded slowly at those words as his eyes flickered up to Merlin's lowered ones, staring at Merlin silently, before they dropped back down to the belt he was fixing around him. "Of course. I should have known that," Arthur said apologetically.

"It's alright," Merlin absolved lightly in return. "It's nothing big."

Arthur stepped back to admire his handiwork with his hands on his hips, smiling. And then he looked back up at Merlin, removing one hand to wave at his clothes. "What do you think?"

Merlin smiled. "I like them," he said softly, quiet awe and happiness in his mellow eyes as he stared down at them.

But then his lips curled in a faint, forlorn smile as he stared wistfully at his new clothes, raising his hands towards the front of the tunic and taking a grasp of it. "But I don't deserve them," he said, a little above a sad whisper.

Arthur moved slightly closer, placed his hands on his shoulders, and then leaned forward to catch his gaze, causing Merlin's head to lift up a little, his doe eyes watching him. "Too bad," he said, shrugging one shoulder with a smile. "Because they're yours now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dialogue between Uther and Halig is not mine, except for a few parts.
> 
> I'd love to know what you thought in your reviews! :)
> 
> No flamers. Constructive criticism is welcome, but be polite, please.


	3. Chapter 3

Merlin had only ever had one friend in his life.

He had met Will while he was owned by a man named Durac. He didn't know how old he was at the time as the knowledge of time was a luxury he could never have. He could never see the morning blue skies, could never watch as it gently faded to darkness until night fell and the entire world slept, another day gone by. For him, it was something that passed away in loneliness and screams and tears and whip lashes and bruises and broken bones and starvation and thirst.

However old they were, they both seemed to be of the same age by the looks of their appearance. They couldn't remember how long it had been since they had been ripped away from their families and taken hostage by the life of prisoners and enslavement and suffering and adversary.

But none of that mattered.

Because during their time in that unforgiving, barbaric place with Durac's ruthless brutality and cruel punishments, where their bodies were whipped until their skins were in shreds, where they were beaten relentlessly until they were bruised and battered all over and starved unsparingly until they were begging for mercy; where they were yelled at with vulgar, savage words that no one should ever hear in their lives until they were shoving their hands over their ears and screaming as loud as they could just so they wouldn't have to hear them again...

During that time, they were each other's hope. They were the ones who held the other when they were too broken to hold themselves together, in the darkest of days and nights. Placed a hand on the other's hands and arms and shoulders and backs and promised them false hopes of being free someday and comforted them with white lies and gentle reassurances. They made each other laugh after a hundred tears shed and, somehow, made each other forget that they were just two insignificant and worthless souls enslaved to a life of being bought and sold from one man to another, just until it all went too far one day.

Because in those moments, they were important. They were valued and loved and meant something to someone, and they thought that, even if they would die somewhere in this life of torture and anguish.

Maybe it'd be okay.

As long as there was a friend beside him when it happened.

 

**...**

 

"I've only ever had one friend before," Merlin blurted out.

Arthur removed his gaze from the candles he was setting on the ground, as the prior ones had burned out, to glance at Merlin. He smiled at him before focusing his eyes back on the task at his hand, but he still paid more than half of his attention to the young boy. "Really? What's his name?" he asked, glad that Merlin had a friend at least once during the horrible hardships he had gone through.

"Will," he said softly, smiling, with a sense of affection and yearning for a friend too far away from him in his large blue eyes.

"Will," Arthur repeated with a small nod of acknowledgement. "Well, where is he now?"

The answer he received was the last one he expected.

"He's dead."

Arthur froze, his mind numbing for a moment with shock.

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at Merlin, who was staring at him, fingers tangled together as he fidgeted with them. He swallowed slightly and sent a hesitant, flickering smile in his way, with the underlying tones of sadness and longing.

"They killed him. Poisoned his food," Merlin continued, looking down at his twisted and trembling fingers. "I held him when he died."

"I'm sorry," Arthur condoled sincerely, his expression earnest.

"Don't be," Merlin replied softly, a little above a quiet whisper as he shook his head slightly, lifting his head up at him. He smiled, a mellow and sorrowful curl of his lips, sniffing as a thin haze of tears glinted in his wide, childlike eyes. "He told me he was going to be free."

Arthur sighed and nodded slowly in understanding. He could only imagine the pain of a slave's life. Living in imprisonment and being tormented every single day of your life, with no control over your own choices and body because you were owned by someone else. He didn't know what it felt like, but he knew it must be beyond bearable. "But he was also your only friend."

Merlin smiled a little more. "I have you now."

Arthur, for the second time, stilled at Merlin's response.

"You think of me as your friend?" he said, surprise and awe creeping into his tone. He sounded more as if he was musing to himself rather than asking Merlin the question.

Of course, he had considered Merlin to be a friend. But he wasn't sure if the boy had felt the same. He had figured, after everything he had been through, it would take Merlin a long while to be ready to give him his friendship and trust, which would have been undoubtedly justified according to Arthur.

The people who had endured the abuse that Merlin had were divided into two kinds. Some were those that, understandably, lost all ability to hold trust and hope and faith. Some were those who clung to the closest one they could find.

Arthur was glad Merlin was in the latter.

Upon hearing the bewildered question, Merlin seemed to grow questioning of his beliefs. "I...I just... I thought that's what we were n-now..." Merlin stammered, swallowing. "Weren't we?" His eyebrows knit in uncertainty as well as a bit of disappointment, worry and fear.

Disappointment of the thought that perhaps they weren't friends. Worry that he might have assumed wrong. Fear that Arthur didn't want to be friends with him. All these thoughts associated with the emotions were written clearly in his expression.

Merlin opened his mouth, most probably to take it all back and apologize.

But Arthur didn't allow him the chance.

"I suppose we are," Arthur said, smiling lightly.

He reveled in the warm feeling that Merlin's beaming smile at him brought.

 

**...**

 

"Have you found the sorcerer boy?" Uther inquired from his position in the council chair.

"No, My Lord," Arthur answered, standing tall and straight with his chin up high as a prince should, even though he was exhausted. Running around the castle all the way from his chambers to the tunnels about three times a day did take a lot out of him, leaving him spent and sapped of energy. Not to mention the fact that he also slept late these nights in order to tend to Merlin.

But he knew that it was all worth it.

"If I may propose a possibility; perhaps the sorcerer boy had escaped the city, My Lord," Arthur hypothesized, hoping that his father would accept it and leave it at that, which would make this situation far easier.

"Perhaps so," Uther replied, somewhat agreeably, and Arthur's heart jolted with excitement and joy. But then sunk low at the next words. "But the guards have seen no one leave the city for the past few days."

"It might be a trick of their sorcery. The sorcerer boy  _was_  said to be powerful."

"But he was also said to have little to no control over his powers," Uther responded nonchalantly, his eyes focused on the parchment he was writing on.

Halig watched from the sides, observing as the prince attempted to detour every probability of the sorcerer boy still residing in Camelot and, essentially, his chances of being caught and found.

And he felt his suspicions begin.

 

**...**

 

Arthur pulled back the hood of his cloak, lowering down to sit across from Merlin on the ground. "Sorry, I'm late. My father was interrogating me once again."

"About what?" Merlin asked, his brows raised and his eyes large with question and curiosity.

"About you," Arthur replied, shrugging. "I tried to convince him that you have probably escaped from Camelot, but he seemed to have an answer for every one of my 'theories'." He smacked his head back against the wall, rolling his eyes exasperatedly and letting a whoosh of breath out from his mouth.

"Your... father?" Merlin repeated slowly, furrowing his brows in puzzlement.

"Yes, my father," Arthur confirmed, his head still tilted back as he stared at him. After a few seconds of watching Merlin ponder while making confused expressions, he pushed himself off the wall and leaned forward. "My father? The King of Camelot?"

Merlin's gaze snapped up at him, staring at him with an emotion resembling horror. The way his eyes proceeded to bug out was almost comical. "Wait, what?"

"What do you mean, what?" Arthur questioned with some bewilderment of his own.

"Your father's the... you're the prince?"

Arthur paused for a moment, going through all his memories and searching for a time when he had mentioned this about himself to Merlin, and came up blank. He realized he hadn't said a single word about this to Merlin.

"I, um... I may have forgotten to tell you...?" Arthur trailed off sheepishly, making it sound more like a question than a statement as he scratched his cheek in an awkward, embarrassed manner.

"I don't understand," Merlin whispered, his brows pinched. He shook his head slightly as he locked his eyes on Arthur's face. "Why are you so good to me?"

"What?"

"You, of all people... you have even less of a reason. And yet, you still... you take care of me like no one other than Wil had," Merlin said, still a light, shaky whisper. He swallowed, a thin sheen of wetness glazing his eyes as he struggled not to crumble. "Why?"

"Because you're the only friend I've ever had," Arthur answered without missing a beat, shrugging a bit. "You told me you've only ever had one friend before. I didn't tell you that I've never had any." He paused, taking a loaded breath, and he smiled a little. "Now, I just want to keep the one I have alive."

Arthur thought he should be uncomfortable at his own display of emotion, but was pleasantly surprised to know he felt completely at peace in his friend's presence and companionship. He trusted Merlin more than he had trusted anyone in his life, and he wondered if it was possible for someone to have such an effect on him, especially after only a few days of knowing each other.

For a long while after his speech, Merlin simply stared at him, causing Arthur to feel slightly awkward under the scrutiny, and he wondered whether he had somehow made an offensive mistake in the things he had said.

But then he saw Merlin's lips curve into a watery smile, and he knew he had said the right words.

Arthur shifted, placing his elbows on his knees as he leaned a little more forward. "With you, I could just be who I am," Arthur confided, smiling. "I don't have to be Prince Arthur here. I could just... I could just be Arthur."

The dents in Merlin's cheek deepened as the arch of his lips widened, reaching his slightly moist eyes and crinkling the corners. It was the kind of smile Arthur had been wanting to see.

"Never met anyone like you." Arthur chuckled quietly, but his soft, affectionate eyes held sincerity at those words.

Merlin's smile couldn't get any bigger and sappier, but nonetheless, Arthur's chest swelled with warmth at the sight of it.

The sound of wood banging followed by rough rustling alerted them to the arrival of intruders, numerous boots thudding against the ground as shouts and orders echoed throughout the tunnels. Arthur's heart jolted in his chest.

He knew exactly who that voice belonged to.

Halig.

"How did they find us?" Arthur whispered, his eyes large with shock under his pinched brows. He felt the heavy pressure of his pounding heart against his sternum, but he managed to snap himself out of his shock and reached for Merlin's thin wrist, wrapping his fingers around it. "Come on!"

He tugged the boy up on his feet and, still clutching his wrist, ran.

 

**...**

 

Merlin's veins filled with cold dread the moment he heard the voice of his master, causing his heart to pound heavily against his chest. The hard beats thumped in his ears as they turned corners and ran, but he noticed when the voices went silent, save for the sounds of walking boots in search of them.

His trembling hands scrabbled frantically against Arthur's shirt as he slid down the wall, searching for soothe and comfort, for something to hold onto, to ground himself into in order to not fall apart at all the thoughts racing in his mind. He grasped a handful of the tunic on his shoulder, swallowing down the distressed sobs and tears pushing against his throat and his eyes, begging to be let out. The icy terror that filled his head with whispers of torture and agony that forced him to consider everything that could go wrong in that moment was something he had felt so many times throughout his life, almost every day, and he should have been used to it by now, but he wasn't.

It still consumed him whole until he could hear nothing but the pelts of fright in his ears, feel the hard pounds of panic against his sternum; the violent twist of trepidation in his stomach; the fear in his throat choking him and constricting his lungs until he was left gasping for air.

Merlin closed his eyes and tried to breathe, burying his mouth against Arthur's shoulder in an attempt to muffle and quiet the harsh sounds. He was already on the verge of breaking down, because they were going to find him. They were going to find him and take him away from Arthur, and they were going to put him back in that cage and call him worthless and a monster and tell him that he'd never be loved by anyone and then they'd give him to the King and he'd -

Merlin shook his head against Arthur, his mouth twisting upward as he thrust a fist between his mouth and Arthur's shoulder, struggling to breathe without sobbing.

"They're going to find me," he whispered anxiously, pushing his face further into Arthur's shirt. "They're going to find me, I..." He choked and sobbed, shaking his head frantically. "I don't want to go back. I don't want to go back to that cage. I can't. I can't..." His voice cracked and he swallowed hard, his eyes still squeezed shut as his features crumpled fully and the tears leaked free from underneath his eyelids, streaming down his cheeks. "I don't want to die." It came out as a strangled, harsh gasping sob that wracked his entire, abused body; ripped out from the deepest, most agonized parts of his wounded and oppressed soul.

"I don't want to die."  _Not when I 've just found a reason to live again._

 

**...**

 

"I won't let that happen," Arthur whispered, feeling Merlin tremble next to him. His heart burned with sorrow and pain at the sight of him; the first glimpse of his broken years in the past. It was there in front of him, in his friend's tearful and red-rimmed eyes, clear as the sky. "I won't. I'll look after you, like Will had once. I won't let them hurt you." He shifted closer, wrapping an arm around his back and tightening his grip. "I promise."

He watched Merlin silently as he sniffed, still trembling against him. His swollen and wet blue eyes slowly revealed themselves open as they looked up at him hesitantly, feeling his thin, quivering fingers tighten slightly on his tunic. He inhaled a breath in shakily and swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly. "M' a m-monster. I've hurt people," he whispered quietly, his voice broken and tight as fresh tears welled up in his ashamed eyes again.

"Monsters don't call themselves monsters for hurting people," Arthur replied softly, no uncertainty in his words. Looking at Merlin right now, in this very moment, he knew there was nothing else that he could believe. The purity and innocence of his soul, his humanity, shone out brightly like the candles in his hands, chasing away any shadows of doubt and fear and distrust that he still might have held.

And all there was left was compassion and affection and faith. A sense of something definite settling inside him, like a fitting puzzle piece.

He reached up and brushed a hand over his friend's hair soothingly. "Monsters don't feel remorse for it."

Merlin swallowed, staring at him deeply through a tearful gaze, as if trying to gauge something. Trying to understand.

Until something seemed to fit. Something definite.

Like a puzzle piece.

And the next thing Arthur knew, he had his arms full of Merlin, all skin and bones against him. His arms clutched around his neck tightly, his small chest stuttering against his own as hitched breaths and strangled sobs filled his ears. His shoulders shook with his cries against the sides of Arthur's neck, his mouth trembling against his skin as his tears soaked his shirt.

Arthur slowly wrapped his own arms around the narrow waist, pressing him closer as he tightened his grip around him, feeling a heavy ache in his chest and a deep need to take away the sounds of his friend's pain.

He held him tight, knowing there was nothing he could do.

They remained like that for a long while, just until Merlin pulled himself together as the sobs and trembles abated. Arthur released him as he slowly drew back from him, smudging the wetness on his cheeks as he attempted to wipe them away. His breaths still shuddered lightly through his nose and his hands still shook a bit, but he seemed better otherwise.

"Are you alright now?" Arthur asked him softly.

Merlin nodded and swallowed, his gaze flickering up towards him.

"Arthur?" Merlin said quietly.

"Hm?"

Merlin smiled, his eyes soft. "I've never met anyone like you either."


	4. A Long Day Ahead

The next morning, Arthur went to see Merlin as soon as he got dressed and had his breakfast.

Yesterday was a close-call. And it had shaken Merlin up quite a lot, enough that he was even more reluctant than usual to let Arthur leave. He had grasped his wrist and nearly begged him to stay the night with him, although he was smart enough to understand the reasons why Arthur couldn't. But emotion and fear had overridden all sense of logic in that moment, and Arthur understood. He really did. Not in the way that he knew all the horrors his friend was forced to live through, he could never really understand that, but in the way that he had seen a lot of his scars and all the anguish of his broken life in his eyes and the desperation and terror in his voice when he told him that he didn't want to go back to what had been before.

He could understand his terror of it almost coming to that.

And Arthur had smoothed a hand gently over his friend's hair, whispered to him about how much he wished he  _could_ , but couldn't, and promised him that he'd come back tomorrow morning as soon as possible.

"Promise?" Merlin whispered back, wavering and desperate and a deep need for reassurance and comfort in his voice.

Arthur smiled softly. "I promise."

And now he was here, on his way through the caves. Merlin must probably be asleep this early, and Arthur hoped it wasn't a restless and troubled night for him.

When he reached there, he saw Merlin curled up tightly on his side, facing the wall and away from him, his bony arms wrapped around his torso.

"Merlin?"

Merlin jerked up with a gasp at the sound of his voice, instantly scrambling away into the corner, just like the first morning after they met. It twisted something inside of him to see that, feeling as if, in that second, all the progress and hard work Arthur had built with him had been regressed back to the way it had been the first time.

But Merlin relaxed, his tensed muscles slackening with relief, as soon as his eyes landed on him.

"Arthur," he said softly, smiling.

Arthur smiled back at him. "Yes, it's me." He moved forward, walking towards Merlin with another napkin of meal in his hands. "I told you I'd come back, didn't I?" he reminded as he crouched to his knees before him, setting the napkin on the ground. "And I brought breakfast."

Merlin watched him silently for a moment as Arthur spread open the corners, revealing the food. "Thank you," then Merlin said sincerely, his voice quiet and his tender eyes crinkling slightly with gratitude. "For everything."

Arthur froze, then looked up and smiled once more. "You're welcome, friend."

Merlin grinned at him, unashamedly wide and goofy and flashing teeth and crinkling blue eyes radiating joy. It was the first time Arthur had ever seen him so happy, and he wondered if it was also the first time Merlin had  _felt_  this happy since Will.

It warmed him, that he could be someone's reason for such immense joy, and it hurt him.

Because Merlin should have had more reasons to smile like that.

 

**...**

 

"Enter," Arthur permissioned in response to the knock without looking up from his swamped desk. As it turned out, dividing his time between work and Merlin meant a little less time for work, which meant more work piling up. His head ached.

Morgana poked in around the door, before stepping in fully and closing the door behind her.

"Morgana!" Arthur said, surprised and curious about her sudden visit. Their meets and greets often happened while they ran into each other in the hallways, but if Morgana ever came all the way to his chambers, it was often for something important. "What a pleasant surprise. Now what the hell do you want?" he said, very sarcastically and rudely, he might add, but he relished in the flash of annoyance in her expression.

She immediately schooled her features after a while. "Such a gentleman, you are," Morgana quipped, smirking slightly.

"Yes, yes." Arthur waved dismissively. "Now get to the point."

"Are you working?" she stalled further, smiling sweetly.

"Yes, hence why I need you to hurry up so that I can get back to it," Arthur retorted, returning her sweet smile mockingly.

Morgana walked gracefully around him until she was standing over his shoulder, having a clear sight of all his paperwork. "That's a lot."

Arthur sighed, surrendering to her company. "A lot, indeed. It'll take me an entire night, at least."

Silence ensued as Arthur went back to his tasks and Morgana watched.

"Who is she?" then she blurted out suddenly.

Arthur froze.

"She who?" he asked confusedly, twisting his head to look up at her.

"Oh please, I hope you didn't think you were being stealthy by disappearing into thin air for hours on end," Morgana replied, rolling her eyes. "I did notice that I haven't been seeing you around as much I used to."

Arthur opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "Is it that obvious?" he questioned, stunned at how apparent his absence was, his brow furrowing with astonishment and bewilderment. He could have sworn he was being careful. But perhaps, it wasn't enough. For a prince who had too much to do in a day, and someone who was bound to be noticed by the entire room whenever he walked in, maybe it could never be enough.

"Yes," Morgana answered bluntly. "Now tell me, who is she?"

 

**...**

 

"What is it like to live here?" Merlin asked. The food had long since been finished, the empty napkin still laid on the dusty ground.

Arthur frowned thoughtfully, contemplating an answer for his question. "Well... peaceful, I suppose." He shrugged. "When it's not being attacked or cursed. Camelot seems to be a beacon for all kinds of enemies."

Merlin chuckled amusedly. "Really?"

"Really," Arthur repeated.

Silence.

"What about... Ealdor?" Arthur questioned quietly, his tone careful. "Do you remember anything about it?"

"Just pieces," Merlin responded, shrugging. He slowly picked up a part of the hem of his tunic and fiddled with it, looking down at it as he always did every time he spoke of his past. "It was just... so long ago. I barely remember it." He paused, and then he snorted mirthlessly. "I've had so many other memories and details to replace it, since the last time I was there."

Arthur nodded and shifted his gaze to his hands, and they fell back into another silence.

"When the Bounty Hunter leaves some day, once he's given up searching for you," Arthur said after a while, and he looked up at him with a small smile. "I'll take you to your home again."

 

**...**

 

That day came sooner than Arthur expected, just about a week later. He wasn't complaining though. If anything, he took the greatest pleasure watching his departure through his windows.

And when he went to see Merlin that evening, he could barely contain his exhilaration as he rushed through the tunnels. His footsteps padded lightly against the ground, making enough sound to alert Merlin of his arrival as he knew he was easily startled after that entire incident with Halig and his search party discovering this place.

When he reached his destination, the first thing he did was stride over to his friend and gather him in his arms, holding him and squeezing him tightly. It puzzled and pushed all the air out of Merlin, but nevertheless, through a breathless laugh, he asked, "What happened?"

Arthur released him, but his hands still remained on his shoulders. He grinned at him. "He's gone!" he exclaimed excitedly, and he could only imagine Merlin's ebullience at the news.

Merlin stilled. Arthur stared at him, smiling achingly hard until his cheeks felt stiff and stuck, nearly bouncing on his feet with his joy while he grasped his shoulders.

And Merlin's own face split into a grin, identical to Arthur's, and he released a rejoiced huff of breath. He seemed freer as he did so, something easy and light shining in his eyes and relaxing his entire posture, like a large burden had been lifted from his shoulders (and maybe it had). Merlin reached out his arms and initiated the embrace himself this time, wrapping it around his friend's neck tightly as he laughed against his shoulder.

"You can go home now," Arthur murmured.

He pretended not to notice the tears soaking his tunic, and just closed his eyes and tightened his arms around him.

 

**...**

 

They snuck out of the castle the following night, Arthur having spent the rest of the day gathering supplies for the trip, which consisted of nothing more than a few pairs of clothes, some food and a few medical items for emergencies as an extra precaution. They stole the horses from the stables, and if Arthur was seen by a couple of guards while he did so, they never questioned him.

The horses galloped through the gates, into tantivy, as their hooves beat against the ground.

 

**...**

 

The fire combusted in the wood, spreading and gathering until it was reaching up high. It set the moonlit area alight with a rich yellow glow, dancing off of their eyes and reflecting its orange in their blue orbs, and their shadows embedded in the light. It also signified the sadness in Merlin's features.

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked as he settled beside him, shoulder-to-shoulder, on the log.

Merlin smiled slightly, shook his head and glanced down at his hands. "It's just..." He paused, sighed wistfully, and shrugged. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll come visit, once or twice a year," Arthur reassured, smiled at him even as the heaviness inside him grew.

"I wish I could be with you forever."

Silence ensued. Arthur stared at him, and wished the same.

But he knew that Merlin would be happier with his mother. His village that he had been torn so callously away from, and for such a long time. He should be  _there_  forever.

"Hey," he coaxed gently as he saw Merlin's bowed eyes well up with tears. He slid off the log, knelt before him and took his hands in his, causing Merlin to look at his face once more. "You're going home. To your mother. Your village. And you're going to be happy. You're going to live a great life as a... a farmer or whatever," Merlin laughed. Arthur smiled, which faded shortly into something a little sadder. "And it'll only be a matter of time before you forget about me."

The last words sent a pang in his chest. But he knew it was true. He wished it wasn't, but it was. What was he, a man who knew him for only a week, among the people Merlin's entire life was supposed to be with? People forget the ones they leave behind and grow to love the ones they're with instead, especially the ones they've only known for a short while.

"You're wrong, Arthur," Merlin whispered, convicted and soft. "I can never forget you." He flipped their hands so that he was the one holding Arthur's instead, and he leaned forward, staring him in the eye with a tender sincerity. "It has been a long,  _long_  time, since I've felt like I was capable of being loved. Since I've felt like I was worth something. And it's all because of you. You saved me, in more ways than one. And I cannot thank you enough for that. And I can certainly never forget you."

The crackle of fire was the only sound in the silence for a while, and Arthur could only stare for moments, speechless at those words. He still didn't know what to say even after that long, so he let the smile blooming on his lips respond for him, and he moved up and pressed a small kiss against his friend's forehead.

He drew back and rubbed his hair, grinning. "Get some sleep, Merlin. It's a long day ahead tomorrow."


	5. My Savior, My Friend, My Brother

They wake up at the first sight of dawn, have their breakfasts and continue their journey. Merlin seemed happy, a smile on his face as the horse galloped on and he bounced on the saddle. He was finally looking forward to seeing his mother, his people, again, and that was another step forward according to Arthur in the progress towards Merlin's recovery.

Their gazes met for a moment as their horses walked on, hooves tapping against the ground. Arthur's lips turned up a little, just a little, but the fondness in his eyes crinkled the corners. Merlin grinned back, and suddenly, the panging weight inside of him was back. It was like he had already watched him go. Like he was already too far away from him, with miles of a forest in between. The longing for his friend's shy smiles, his genuine, grateful thank-yous, the dragons he made in the embers of fire that was no longer discomforting, but rather endearing and wondrous (always filling him with such awe, at how beautiful magic can truly be when it wasn't used for evil), the heavy sadness of never being able to see him as much as he wished anymore.

"You seem troubled, Arthur," Merlin said, his grin now gone and his expression instead furrowed with worry. "Is something wrong?"

Arthur took a low sigh, shook his head and then looked up at him, smiling reassuringly. "No, it's alright. I'm alright."

If his gaze lingered on Merlin for a little while, full of sadness and longing for his friendship, Merlin didn't say anything about it.

 

**...**

 

Ealdor wasn't too far off from where they were at that moment. Merlin was besetted with all kinds of emotions as they travelled through the forests, under the trees, leaves crunching beneath the hooves.

Anxiety and excitement balled up in his stomach like a stone, swirling and twisting. Happiness and joy that made him feel light and afloat and tugged at his cheeks every once in a while into a large, tight grin that almost hurt. The furious, ticklish sensation made him want to spin around and dance and laugh as loud and hard as he could, like a bloody mad man, but he couldn't help it, and he almost felt like he could cry from all the emotions overcoming him at once.

But the sorrow. The sorrow and longing and guilt. They were always there too. Every time he looked at Arthur, at the side of his face, his blue eyes that caught his own every once in a while, they were there, like a tightness, a sickness, a heavy boulder on his chest, his abdomen.

And sometimes he was half-tempted to tell Arthur to turn back now, to go with him back to Camelot. Nobody would really know him there anyway, because nobody saw him that night other than Arthur and that knight with him (but chances are, he wouldn't remember him. He was always a nameless face for everyone. Why should this be any different?) The Bounty hunter was gone, so there wouldn't be any danger or risk.

But then he remembered his mother. His beautiful, beloved mother, and he knew he had to see her, tell her he was okay. It had been too long though, and he felt like he was going to meet her for the first time.

The pieces of her memories were too unclear and vague for him to  _really_  imagine; the brown colour of her hair, the kindness of her face, her tenderness of her voice, her loving touch. The little things he knew of her were so far away that they felt like they were nothing but dreams. Like how she used to sing him to sleep (he didn't remember her voice, nor did he remember the tune or the words of the song, but he knew that it always soothed him). Like how she took care of his cuts when he fell. How she comforted him after nightmares. Made him breakfast in the morning with what little they had. Kissed his forehead every night and morning. He memorized most of the things she had done for him when he thought he was beginning to lose them so he wouldn't forget every part of her, but they were just knowledge now. They weren't memories anymore. The details, the images and the colours had disappeared long ago. But still, they were all enough to make him love her, miss her all those years after, want to see her again.

"We're almost there, Merlin," Arthur announced.

 

**...**

 

Merlin was almost paralyzed with all his feelings and uncertainty by the time they reached the village.

He didn't know why he was so afraid, so unsure. It was his mother. She wouldn't reject him. He knew his fear was irrational and unreasonable, but he couldn't stop it. He watched all the small houses that people shared (he remembered that now), all the people that seemed so familiar, a little nagging feeling, and yet, so strange and new. He watched the farmers growing crops, the mothers and fathers keeping an eye on the children playing, the women and men chatting all around.

"Merlin?"

Merlin startled, coming back to himself. He almost forgot he existed as he watched them all, so lost in the view of a place that was meant to be his home. But it didn't feel right. It didn't feel like home. It didn't feel like he belonged here. It didn't feel like it did with  _Arthur_. He knew it could just be because he only arrived here and it had been too long, but something inside him told him it was more than that.

He felt something land on his wrist.

Merlin blinked and slowly glanced down from his horse to see Arthur standing beside him, staring up at him in concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked him softly, and Merlin. Merlin felt something rise in his chest at that voice, that face full of tender care and memories (his best memories in a long,  _long_  time), something deep and heavy and painful. The pressure of tears built behind his burning eyes, a stone stuck in his throat, and he tried to chase it all away as he nodded and climbed off the saddle with the help of Arthur's arm around him (his injuries were still there, however trite they've grown from years and years of endless pain) and tried not to think of the fact that he'd barely get to hear that voice and see that face again.

Merlin's feet touched the ground, his arms retracting from his friend's neck, but his gaze wouldn't leave him. It seemed unimaginable to have him out of sight for months, to see only see him once or twice a year. He didn't know if he'd survive that long without him. It didn't seem like he would, because Arthur wasn't even gone, and he already felt like he was dying, his chest ripping apart like paper. It was needy and messed up, but Arthur was home. He hadn't had a home since he could remember. Only cells and cages and beatings and torture.

Arthur held onto his shoulder, gave him a gentle, encouraging (almost brittle) smile and led him towards the village.

Arthur was the one who had given him hope, a reason to live, a new and better life in those caves for those few days, who had stuck around even after he found out what he was, not a single change the next day in the way he saw him. He had saved him, loved him like he was his brother, fed him and gave him candles and clothes and took care of him and talked to him and protected him from the Bounty Hunter. He had stopped wanting to die because Arthur decided that he was worth something, made him feel like he was, and that had made a world of difference to him. And that difference would stay with him forever.

How was he supposed to let go of that? How was he supposed to watch him leave now and carry on with his life?

"I can't do this," Merlin said, a breath of a whisper, as he stopped walking, his fist reaching up and grabbing Arthur's shirt.

He tried to catch air in his slightly uncomfortable, smothered lungs, then turned to Arthur and swallowed, his eyes wide and scared as they fixated on the ground. "I...I can't. I don't want to leave you."  _I don't want you to leave_  me _._

"Merlin, your mother..." Arthur trailed off unsurely.

"I...I want to see her. I want to meet her," Merlin said, words cracking and strained, swallowing again as he paused and nodded. His grip tightened on his shirt and he sucked in a deep breath. "But... but I want to be with you too."

Merlin lifted his gaze up to him, earnest and huge.

"Your mother hasn't seen you for years, Merlin," Arthur said quietly, not quite able to meet his eyes.

Merlin couldn't give an answer to that, so he bit his trembling lip and nodded shakily again. He let go of Arthur, backed a step, and then exhaled one loaded, heavy breath of an exhausted boy who had been on an endless search for meaning and hope and home, only to lose it all too soon. He turned on his heel and walked, not heeding the tears that broke loose and the burn of Arthur's stare on his back.

 

**...**

 

Merlin went everywhere for her. He went to his old home that suddenly cleared that blurry image of a tiny house in his mind. There were heads turning towards him, question and wonder in all of their expressions. It was a small village, so it wouldn't be hard to recognize a new face.

After being isolated for most of his life, it was hard to communicate with anyone. Comfort and security with any human being was rare. If anything, there were only two people he could remember ever being at ease with. Will and Arthur.

But after minutes of futile searching, he realized he would have to push past this social block and just  _ask_  someone.

"Are you looking for somebody, boy?" He nearly flinched, even though it was only the voice of a kind, elderly woman.

He turned his bowed head towards her, fidgeting nervously. "I-I... I'm looking for my mother. H-her... her name is Hunith."

Merlin remembered hours and hours of embedding that name into his memory, falling asleep whispering it to himself, so that he would never forget it. Those were days when he still hoped that he'd get out of there and be be free.

He was glad those hopes came true (and all he could think about was Arthur).

"Hunith?" she repeated, something strange in her tone that Merlin couldn't comprehend. "You're her son?"

Merlin nodded. "I-I was taken by slave traders t-ten years ago. Have you s-seen my mother?" He hated how his voice shook.

"Oh..." she whispered sympathetically. "Oh, my poor boy."

The old woman stepped forward and took his hands in hers, causing Merlin to sneak a glance up before shooting his gaze back down at the ground.

"My boy," she began, her sorrowful voice low in some strange, quiet respect. "Your mother... she has been..." She paused, inhaling a quivering, mournful breath. "She has been gone for the past two years."

"G-gone? Gone where?" Merlin asked, feeling confused at her manner of speaking and her words. He looked up at her, just long enough to catch a small, immensely sad smile.

And he  _knew_.

He knew what she meant. And for a moment, he was selfish enough to hope that there was a mistake, that it wasn't his own mother, but someone else's.

"No, h-her name is Hunith," he repeated brokenly, desperately, but there was barely any sound, far lower than even a whisper, a low air of words from a choked throat. It was too weak, and he was sure the old woman didn't hear it.

"She had brown hair, kind eyes, a tender, beautiful face. I remember, my boy. I remember her too well."

She sighed deeply, squeezing his hands once.

"After you disappeared, she never managed to move on. She withdrew and isolated herself from all of us. She was always seen sitting by herself, and somehow we all knew that she was always asking herself about you. But eight years is too long for anyone who had lost a child and never knew how or why, not even a single answer as to what happened." The old woman tightened her grip on his hands, but he was too distant from his body to feel it. He couldn't think. He couldn't understand what was happening. He tried to, but his mind couldn't process anything.

"She couldn't take the pain of losing you," she quavered, staring down at the ground. "And she hung herself on a tree."

 

**...**

 

" _She loved you. She loved you so much, my boy. The rare times she spoke, it was always about you. Always reminiscing about fond memories of you._ "

It never really sunk in, even as he mindlessly thanked the woman and walked away. It was like there was something blocking it from reaching him, from making him truly feel it fully (maybe that was a good thing), something like denial, like this couldn't be happening. Like maybe it was all a dream. He hoped it was.

He didn't feel like himself.

But even then. Even then, his lungs suddenly ache with hunger, because he couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe because  _she was gone_. She was gone, and he didn't say goodbye to her. He didn't get to tell her he loved her. He couldn't breathe because she died by her own hands, because she couldn't take the agony of being without  _him_.

And it made him feel responsible. It made him feel like it was his fault. It made him feel like he should be the one dead. If only he hadn't been out there in the forest alone that day. If only... if only he had done better to escape. If only...  _if only_...

 

**...**

 

Arthur nearly toppled over when he turned away from stroking his good horse's hair and something slammed into him, knocking the air out of his lungs. For a second, he went on defense and almost attacked the source, until he smelt Merlin's familiar, unique scent that was also blood and sweat.

Merlin's arms wrapped around his neck, like a small kid. He always had such a childlike vulnerability in the way he acted and spoke, and he wondered if it was because he never got to grow up like he should have had.

"Merlin? How did it go?" Arthur asked, smiling lightly. Surely, meeting his mother must have made him rejoice.

But Merlin was shaking in his arms, and there was something about the way his breaths were shuddering and restrained in his ears, the way his chest wouldn't rise and fall in a natural, easy rhythm, stuttering and rigid, like he was trying to hold something back. Or like he couldn't breathe.

"Merlin? Did something happen?" he questioned, and the worry began to gnaw at his insides.

Silence.

"Sh's... sh-sh's go..." he choked off with a hard sob. Merlin's speech was broken, stammering, trembling. "Sh's  _gone_." It was a shaky whisper, almost soundless, only a few fragments of the words heard clearly.

But the desperate  _grief_  that was in the way he tightened his grip around him and trembled against him, the agony inside that came through everything he was right now, the suffocating need for his mother that almost made Arthur feel suffocated.

Arthur didn't have to ask what he meant.

"I don't... I don't 'member what she looked li'e," he murmured against him, frantic and incoherent, the pronunciations running into each other like beads on a necklace. "I don't 'member her an'... an' now I never will."

Arthur's heart clenched as Merlin let out a harsh, gasping sob against his shoulder and a strangled whimper, his knees slowly sinking from beneath him as if his heart's grief was too heavy for his feet, as if he couldn't stand up anymore. He went down along with him, held him as he cried and curled his fingers loosely in his hair, and hated himself for not knowing what to say.

 

**...**

 

They set camp for the night.

Merlin hadn't cried again since they left Ealdor. Instead, he had sat on the saddle, stared ahead through vacant eyes like there was nothing to look forward to anymore, and never spoken a single word. Arthur hadn't either, because what could he possibly have said to make this better?

Now Merlin was lying on the other side of the fire, still with that destroyed, empty face. His features weren't cold or hard, neither was it relaxed and calm. There was just nothing.

There wasn't anything he could say, none that he knew of. He had learned that too soon as they journeyed back towards Camelot. Every comforting word he could tell Merlin seemed to be too small for all the anguish he had gone through.

So he didn't.

Instead, he crawled over to him, slid down to lie on his side behind him and fit himself around him, locked an arm over his waist and clutched his hand and buried his nose in the back of his neck. Merlin stayed silent, stayed still, barely a twitch of reaction. But somehow, Arthur knew this was right. This was what he needed right now.

He was proven correct when Merlin twisted around in his grasp after a while so that he was facing him, burrowing closer against his chest and resting his forehead against his heartbeats. Arthur tucked the blankets around him more snugly, closed his eyes and breathed in his hair.

"Thank you," Merlin said softly. They were the same words Arthur had heard, over and over and over, every day and night he visited him. For some inexplicable reason, he couldn't feel that he deserved it this time.

Arthur smiled weakly, even though Merlin couldn't see it.

"Thank you for saving me. For being my savior, my friend. My brother."

 

**...**

 

The morning sunrise cast an enthralling, beautiful orange glow on the skies above the albicant castle, golden light catching on the majestic towers looming over the ground. Even in the midst of his crippling grief, his exhausted, itchy, burning eyes, his gravitated, crumbling, aching heart, Merlin couldn't stop himself from noticing it. It was a hopeful sight of the beginning of another day, like a promise of the beginning of a new life.

It was a little funny, how, the last time he arrived here and saw this castle, he thought he was staring at the place of his death, the last city he'd ever see before his eyes closed forever. He thought he'd leave this world, forgotten and unloved.

But things never went the way he expected. He had never expected spending a lonely, excruciating life as a slave ten years ago, and he had never expected the end to be the start of something better. He knew there would be horrible days. Horrible days when he would feel trapped and broken because of the nightmares of his past and when he would be on his knees from the agony of losing the one person he left behind and dreamed of seeing all this time. He knew how loss was, how it shredded you from the inside out and burned the pain of it into your very soul. He knew that it'd be a long while before he could think of his life in years and not be overwhelmed by the deep desolation and grayness because they'd all have an emptiness to it, as if there was something missing. He had lost too much to ever forget that feeling. He had lost himself through everything, his dignity, his self-esteem, his memories, his hopes and dreams. He had lost Will and he had lost his mother twice.

But...

But he glanced at Arthur, and he couldn't help but marvel at the way destiny works in such mysterious, unfathomable, phenomenal ways.

Now this was going to be his home. His hope. His meaning.

And here, as he watched Arthur alongside him, he wasn't sure if he was only thinking about Camelot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Hi, you lovely readers! So this is the last chapter. I haven't decided yet if I'm going to write an epilogue or leave the rest to your imagination. But in my mind, the story sort of goes the same way as in the show, with Merlin becoming Arthur's manservant and saving Camelot, except that their relationship is different as they met under another set of circumstances that only served to bring them closer and allowed them to easily express their friendship (or love, if you'd prefer. I know there are some who'd rather see it that way rather than deep friendship, although it was meant to be the latter for me :)), and also, Arthur knows about Merlin's magic. (Hm... I think I'd like to explore that relationship post-this-chapter, maybe fast-forward to a few years later?)
> 
> This was intended to be a short story. I hope it's not too much of a disappointment that I ended it too soon with less adventure and more angst/bromancey stuff. I consider myself an emotional writer more than anything, in the way that I like exploring emotions and experiences and relationships and shiz like that. But there's another reason. I have no freaking idea what has been happening, but for the past two bloody years, my creativity juices/muse have been practically dead, so I can't conjure many twists and turns and if I can, I end up writing them in an extremely amateur, absurd way that doesn't satisfy me (nor will it satisfy anyone) at all.
> 
> Anyways, I love you all so much. *wraps octopus arms all around you* Thank you for sticking with me all this time, through this journey, short as it is. And I hope you stay for all the other ones. *hugs* Each one of you are awesome! You're unique and amazing and here to fill a space on this earth that would've been empty without you. Don't ever let anyone make you believe otherwise. I just wanted you to know that, because there are way too many of us hurting in this world, and it's not fair because a lot of them don't deserve a single bit of it.
> 
> Smile and have a great year!

**Author's Note:**

> 'Lady of the Lake' is one of my most favorite episodes, as it was the introduction of Freylin, which in my opinion, is the most beautiful romantic pairing ever. *grins* I think there is no love story more amazing than theirs. Maybe it's because I'm more bromance-oriented than romance-oriented so I don't know many, but it's the best one I've ever known.
> 
> I was watching the episode again the other day, overcome with feels (my heart still does weird things thinking about them), and I suddenly wanted some kind of Merlin-Arthur bromance version of it. And so, this story was born. *smile* I hope you enjoy it! There is major friendship ahead, and it is focused on their bromance more than anything.
> 
> No flamers. Constructive criticism is welcome though. Please, let me know what you think.


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